


Something Missing or Something Present

by crieshavoc



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, Punky Monkey, Science Girlfriends, cophine - Freeform, implied possible sarcophine, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crieshavoc/pseuds/crieshavoc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosima confesses to Delphine that she’s in love with Sarah; simpler and more complicated than it sounds. (Post-s2. Canon compliant, technically.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Missing or Something Present

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt from punk-rock-science: "cosima confesses to delphine that she's in love with sarah. after the result (good or bad on delphine's part, you decide) cos goes back to sarah, emotionally exhausted."
> 
> tumblr notes: This ended up being rather more Cophine than Punky Monkey because I have trouble letting Delphine be sad. That being said, I think (hope) you’ll still like it.

                You’ve never had a type, exactly. You’ve always known what you want when you see it, sure, and you’ve got a pretty good track record of getting what you want. This is different. You’ve never understood those people who are just in it for the chase. That’s not what you’re about. That’s not what _this_ is. You hope you can make her understand that. You still want her. You still love her. You still _need_ her, but it’s not enough. It’s not enough without Sarah and you can’t tell her why because you don’t _know_. You just know it’s true.

                Before Delphine, before _clones_ , you never put up with _so much_ in a relationship. You never put up with lying, with betrayal, with mistakes – no matter how well-intentioned – that had _seriously_ negative ramifications. You’ve always been a pretty good judge of character, even if you do have a tendency to leap before you look. _That_ is the thrill you enjoy. The thrill of the unknown _something_ you’ve been looking for. It’s not just about physical attraction, or intelligence, or common interests, or similar ways of displaying affection. It _is_ those things, sure, but there’s always something left over – something missing or something present – that you don’t have a name for.

                The answers to every question are out there, if you know how to look. You believe that. You believe it wholeheartedly. That’s why you’re a scientist. The pursuit of knowledge – where _not knowing yet_ is just the beginning is what drives you, in all things. Finding the answers _too late_ is always a fear, sure, but the question of _timing_ has never been so real. It’s never hit so close to home. The question of _home_ has never been an issue before, either.

                Seven months is a long time in a new relationship. Seven months is the blink of an eye in a lifetime, even a human one. Seven months is long enough to begin to heal, to grow strong again, to grow closer with your _sisters_ and your _brothers_ and your _nieces_ and your _nephew_ and your _brother-in-law_. Your _family_. To grow closer to a freedom you didn’t even know you were lacking. To witness transformation. To transform. When Delphine arrives back in Toronto, so much has already changed. Delphine hurdles back into your life and while she doesn’t expect _nothing_ to have changed, there’s just no way she can understand. There’s no _reasonable_ expectation in any of this. Delphine loves you and you _do_ love her, but in the time she’s been gone, Sarah’s been at your side.

                Sarah has tucked you into bed each night, in blankets and in her arms, and kissed your sweaty forehead, and helped you pick hats to hide the absence of dreadlocks. Sarah has cooked for you. Sarah has subjected herself to cooking lessons from Alison for you. Sarah has cried with you, and for you, and because of you. Sarah’s been _with you_. Sarah has also been oblivious to the _shite storm_ she’s incited in your heart.

                No one knows. You think Alison has a clue, and she _would_ , but you haven’t actually told anyone. You can’t. Everyone you _could_ talk to, everyone involved, is, well, involved. _Invested_. You’ve considered talking to Scott, but you two don’t have that kind of friendship. You’ve considered Felix, but _no_ ; you’ve considered Art, but _no_ ; you’ve considered Donnie, even, but _no_. So, you talk to Delphine about it. You talk around it with Delphine, more accurately. She has no idea what you’re trying to say, but then again, neither do you.

                _I’m in love with Sarah, and with you, and Sarah has no idea, and I don’t want to lose you, but –_

                Even in your mind, the explanation is incomplete. For the first time in your adult life, you _don’t_ know what you want. That un-nameable _something_ is ever elusive, but this is different. You tried to avoid this; to bury the realization under blankets and rationalization. Of course you love Sarah. Sarah’s your friend. Of course you love Sarah. Sarah takes care of you. Of course you love Sarah. Sarah’s your _sister_ , except she’s not. She’s not your sister like Alison is, or Helena; like Tony and Felix are your brothers. Kira’s your niece, sure, but Sarah’s not your _sister_. It’s so hard to describe, but that’s just not how you feel about her. You wish it was, because then _this_ wouldn’t be happening, but it _is_.

                You know you have to bite the bullet. You have to _try_ to explain what you’re feeling, because it feels _dishonest_ and _disloyal_ and _wrong_ , feeling the way you do about _Sarah_ and kissing Delphine. It feels wrong the way you think about _kissing_ Sarah when you’re so madly, deeply, truly in love with Delphine. You’re terrified of her reaction, absolutely, but you do want her to know. You want her to know and you want her to help you figure out what to do. Sometimes you daydream about working out an _arrangement_ , but that’s absurd because _Sarah doesn’t even know_. Sarah thinks of you as her _sister_. You know she does. You love that she cares about you, even if you’re not measuring it on the same scale, and you’re not sure you need _her_ to know. You do need _Delphine_ to know, but you can’t find the words.

                The walls of Delphine’s hotel room are bare; the furnishings are standard and sparse and _boring_. It occurs to you that you’ve never seen where Delphine lives. Since you both came to Toronto you’ve been staying with Sarah, at Felix’s; and with Sarah, at Mrs. S’ place. Delphine lived in a DYAD apartment, before Frankfurt, and presumably _during_ Frankfurt, and now she’s in a hotel. Delphine looks at you with love in her eyes and holds you with love in her every motion, but there’s no sense of _home_. She’ll follow you anywhere, you’re past doubting it. Doubting her. You know she wants to build a home with you. In the time she’s been gone though, in the time you’ve been _separated_ , you’ve _found_ a home. You’ve found a home and a family you aren’t prepared to leave.

                “Hey, Delphine?” You begin. You start, finally, and hope the words you need will fall into place.

                She’s looking at you, has been, when you catch her eye. She looks worried and you want to cry. Her shoulders are tense and her eyes are sad. She’s bracing for a reprimand, a dismissal. She’s bracing for you to tell her _No_ , but that’s not what this is.

                “I’m glad you’re back,” you tell her, leaning forward to put your hand on her knee.

                She smiles, instinctively, at your touch, and your heart soars.

                “Me, too, _Cherie_.” She hesitates. “You said things had changed, while I was away,” Delphine says, fingers aimlessly tracing her wine glass, no longer looking at you.

                “Things _have_ changed, but how I feel about you hasn’t.” You try to be clear. You try to leave _no room_ for misinterpretation. “I _love_ you, Delphine. _That_ hasn’t changed.” That’s not what _this_ is.

                Her shoulders relax and she _smiles_ and you’re in love all over again. Delphine puts her hand on yours and it feels _right_ in a way no one else has, but still….

                “I do need to explain something though, and I – I have no idea how.” You look away, grimacing, shaking your head.

                Delphine’s eyes follow your movement, visually inspecting your new growth of hair. She nods encouragingly, plainly at your mercy. She knows as well as you do that, at this point, she would follow you to the ends of the earth.

                You wonder if this qualifies.

                “Is there…” She stumbles and you want to throw something, _hard_. “Is there someone _else_?” Delphine’s voice cracks and you want _this_ to stop.

                “Not exactly,” you smile, crookedly, trying to chuckle at her inevitable confusion.

                “I don’t understand,” she eventually says.

                Now you laugh, genuinely. “Neither do I, babe.” You take a deep breath, because you can, because you need to, but mostly because you can. “I’m in love with Sarah.”

                Delphine goes tense, and then limp, and tense again. Her body straightens and curls while her eyes widen and narrow, her mouth opens and closes. Her attempts to process your confession are obvious. She doesn’t need to tell you again that she doesn’t understand. To her credit, she doesn’t try to tell you otherwise. She doesn’t try to talk you out of it. She trusts that you know what’s in your heart, even when _this_ is so very strange.

                “Yeah,” you mutter, the truth sour in your mouth. “She doesn’t know.” You look up, brushing your hand over your face and your hair, fighting back tears. “I don’t know what else to say. I have _no idea_ what to do or what I _want_ to do.”

                She drains her glass and sets it aside. “Do you plan to tell her?”

                You shake your head. You shrug.

                “Where – I want to ask where that leaves us, but you don’t know, do you?” Delphine, to her credit, does know you pretty well by now. She _must_ know this is tearing you up inside.

                You think she does, when she reaches for your hand. You think she does, when she kisses your knuckles and wipes her eyes and smiles at you, sharing your discomfort and confusion.

                You’ve never loved her so much. You’ve never _needed_ her so much, and it seems like she _knows_ that. Which just makes this more difficult.

                “Do you want to talk about it, Cosima?” She tilts her head, puppy-like, and you want to kiss her.

                You want to kiss her and forget, but that wouldn’t be fair to either of you. You shake your head again.

                Delphine’s smile goes crooked, looking almost like yours and _Sarah’s_ for a moment, “Do you want me to help you seduce her into our bed?” She looks strangely _hopeful_ , even if her tone is joking.

                You can’t help but laugh. Laughter brings tears, for both of you. You’re laughing and crying _together_ , marveling at the insanity of your lives, and you stand from your chair. You collapse into her arms, her lap, and kiss her face.

                Her arms are around you and you’re kissing desperately, making up for _seven months_ apart and the very uncertain prospects of your future together.

                “You _were_ kidding, right?” You ask her, later. “About seducing Sarah?”

                Delphine doesn’t answer you right away. She looks at you for a long time, long enough that you start to feel self-conscious, and tug the blankets higher. Without looking away, she reaches out and tugs them down again. There are no more barriers between you two. That’s not what this is, remarkably.

                “Delphine?”

                “I was, but,” she shrugs, “if that is what it takes to – to be with you, to make you happy,” another shrug, “then, perhaps not.” Delphine runs her fingers through your hair, “You did tell me I had to love all of you,” she smiles, her eyes still dark and hooded.

                You blush, pulling her hand down so you can kiss her palm. “That wasn’t _really_ what I meant,” you say against her skin, but you don’t bother reacting as if the idea doesn’t _thrill_ you.

                “Cosima, I would do anything for you,” she pulls you close again, close against her warm, sweaty body.

                “I know,” you nod, kissing her neck and letting your hands wander.

                “Will you stay with me tonight?” She asks, but surely she knows the answer by now.

                You sigh against her, “No. Sarah’s expecting me home.” There’s a world in that sentence and you wish it was a world that included Delphine. There’s a world here, in her arms, and you wish it included Sarah. You wish _Sarah_ didn’t mean _home_ unless _Delphine_ did, too, but you’re not sure if that’s possible. You’re not sure if finding a way to make that _true_ is what you’re meant to do here. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s not. The uncertainly won’t _kill_ you, you’ve survived worse already, but it _is_ awful.

                “I understand,” Delphine whispers with her lips pressed lightly against your new curls.

                You have to laugh again, “Do you?”

                She laughs back, “ _Non_ , but we’ll figure it out.”

                The certainty in her voice is reassuring. Maybe it _will_ be okay. Maybe you _can_ survive this.

                _What if_ and _maybe_ are fast friends with you by now, and they make an almost pleasantchorus in your mind all the way home. Your mind spins with possibilities and eventualities and you begin to wonder how to broach the subject with Sarah. Your body _hums_ at the thought, at Delphine’s peculiar acceptance, of all of you being somehow _together_. There’s a million other questions to consider, to weigh against this outlandish idea, sure, but Delphine’s _with you_ now. It makes a world of difference. You feel lighter, even as your feet drag with a bone-deep exhaustion. You don’t exactly feel optimistic, or even quite excited, but there is _curiosity_ where there had been _dread_. It _is_ easier, somehow, to crawl into bed next to Sarah now, to let her sleepily wrap her arms around you, and to drift off with the taste of Delphine still on your lips. You don’t know yet what you’re going to do, no, but you _like_ the unknown, so maybe this isn’t so bad after all.


End file.
